


Things Left Behind

by entanglednow



Category: Good Omens (TV)
Genre: Abandonment, Alternate Universe - Horror, Crowley is Good at Being a Demon (Good Omens), Fear, First Meetings, M/M, Minor Character Death, Power Imbalance, Spiders, mofu bingo 2021
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 03:09:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,770
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29602953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/entanglednow/pseuds/entanglednow
Summary: It wasn't Aziraphale's fault that he'd fallen behind, the slip down the rocks had jarred his knee badly and running had been almost impossible afterwards.
Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens)
Comments: 110
Kudos: 310
Collections: MoFu Bingo 2021





	Things Left Behind

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Monster Fucker Bingo prompt #3 Abandoned To/With Creature
> 
> Heavy spider themes to this one, please be aware.

Gabriel hadn't waited for him.

He'd taken the rest of the expedition out through the main entrance to the cave and then collapsed it behind them.

Aziraphale had felt the rock walls around him shake.

It wasn't his fault that he'd fallen behind, the slip down the rocks had jarred his knee badly and running had been almost impossible afterwards. He can feel the steady throb of it in perfect time to the pounding of his heart. No one could have predicted what they'd find here. They'd come looking for mysteries - Aziraphale had wanted to expand the history of the people who'd lived in the area. To discover why these caves had been so important to them over the last four thousand years.

But all Gabriel had been interested in was the gold - most of which was now spilled at the bottom of a chasm back the way they'd come. Hastur had refused to leave without it but the weight of it had been too much for the bridge. Aziraphale still remembers the sound he'd made when he fell.

They'd still been some talk about going back to claim more, even after the thing started chasing them.

A noise from the very back of the cave shakes Aziraphale out of his thoughts, a series of clicking scrapes in the darkness. He holds his breath. Hoping desperately that he won't be found.

" _I don't think much of your friends and their loyalty_." The voice comes not from the tunnel he'd slipped through but from the ceiling - confirming that the thing was inside the cavern with him. Aziraphale backs into the rough stone of the wall, willing his torch to last just a little bit longer. Though the fraying cloth had already melted, the wood charred to almost nothing.

The creature who lives in these caves - none of them could possibly have been prepared for it.

He feels the telltale sensation of something crawling on him, the prickle of too many legs, he looks down and finds a spider the size of a grapefruit on the sleeve of his shirt. A similar one had bitten Sandalphon and he'd gone mad and run off into the darkness, never to be seen again. Aziraphale breathes out and shakes it gently in the direction of the rocks beside him. 

There's a drift of movement overhead, the sound of something tapping its way across the ceiling of the cave, a shower of tiny stones hitting the ground.

" _You don't seem the type to come ransacking another's home._ "

"I wasn't ransacking -" Aziraphale protests shakily, only to grip his torch in horror when he realises he'd been goaded into speaking. He fully expects the shape moving above him to drop down, to catch him up and haul him into the dark, leave him wrapped in silk like poor Ligur.

But there's simply a long hissing sound and a twist of shadows.

" _Statues broken, gold stolen, my subjects **murdered** ,_" the voice offers in sharp tones. " _What would you call it?_ "

Aziraphale is horrified by the accusation. Enough that he chances a brief look upwards - though it's too dark to see the top of the cavern. Part of him thinks that's something of a relief.

"We didn't murder anyone -" He stops, remembering vividly the sight of Gabriel's boot stamping on anything with more than two legs, and things suddenly make a lot more sense. The creatures of this cave, great and small, must be under this being's protection. No wonder it was so angry with them all.

" _They are small and brief and they cannot speak, but they are mine._ " A stabbing click is hard enough to knock a stone loose, sending it clattering to the floor.

"I'm sorry," Aziraphale offers, heart pounding in his chest. "I didn't know."

There's a creak of movement from above, the whispering slide of silken thread - and a head slips into view, a drifting curtain of dark red hair hanging down below it. The glossy shine of yellow eyes sit in a narrow face that looks disarmingly human. Two pale arms are crossed, but another set stretches outwards to brace the creature against the cave wall. Four long segmented legs hold its rounded shiny black lower body to the ceiling.

"Will sorry bring them back?" it asks, in that hissing voice.

Aziraphale has lost all the air in him.

"Hmm?" the giant spider-shape presses.

Aziraphale shakes his head, his fingers almost losing their grip on the torch. "No, of course not."

"You know they call me _Crawly_?" the monster says bitterly. "The new ones." He doesn't seem pleased about it.

"Yes," Aziraphale says breathlessly. "I didn't - I didn't know if it was your name or something unkind." He'd thought the legends were a myth. The demon that protected the old places, the spider motifs, the drawings of bodies cocooned in webs. The oldest names had been lost, or corrupted. But a name, a name made someone real. No matter how this being is made, a name makes it a person. "I don't know your name, I'm sorry."

There's a beat of silence, yellow eyes staring at him above a sway of tangled hair, bare shoulders and chest moving slightly with every slow breath.

"My name is Crowley," he says simply. "I think I would like to hear you say it." There's a quiet yearning to the request, as if he hasn't heard his name from anyone else in a very long time.

Aziraphale swallows thickly, forces his dry mouth to speak. 

"Crowley," he offers, in one shaky breath.

He's surprised when Crowley seems to relax at the sound of it, his hang becoming more contemplative and less threatening. As far as a giant spider demon can be said to be 'unthreatening.' Aziraphale may have lost his grip on the appropriate reactions to the situation.

"They tell me that you were kind," Crowley says.

Aziraphale blinks helplessly at his upside-down face through the weak torch flame.

"I don't know what you mean?" He's felt anything but kind since he was brought here. He'd thought some genuinely terrible things about some of the members of the expedition, who'd taken every opportunity to mock and belittle him. As beautiful as this cave system was, most of his days he'd simply been tired and afraid.

"One of them had lost their way," Crowley continues. "Had fallen into the water. They said you put them on a rock."

Aziraphale frowns. He had. Yes. He'd seen a large black spider kicking feebly in the rush of a cave stream and it had seemed cruel not to help it. He'd lifted it out and set it down on a small stalagmite.

"I thought -"

There's a sudden rush of movement - too fast to follow - and it has Aziraphale pressing himself to the wall again. But Crowley has simply dropped to the floor and righted himself, his body braced on four towering legs. He considers Aziraphale with a frightening sort of intensity, all four of his arms now hanging loose beside him, the fingers curling and uncurling, nails shining in the dark.

"How does a soft, kind thing come to be with so many cold and dangerous men, hmm?"

It's not the first time Aziraphale's been accused of being soft. Gabriel had been hesitant to bring him, worried that he wouldn't be able to keep up, that he'd slow them down, prove to be a liability to the expedition. But he'd still never expected them to abandon him so easily. Maybe that was foolish of him.

"Do you like cold, dangerous things?" Crowley asks quietly, threads of amusement and curiosity in his voice.

"I never meant to disturb your cave," Aziraphale explains, because he feels like he should. "I was brought here to - to solve a mystery. The caves, the caves were a mystery. I just wanted to document the legends, I wanted to discover its secrets. The hall of frozen giants and the crystal cave were so beautiful -" He stops, watching the smile stretch in Crowley's face, teeth unnaturally sharp when his lips peel away from them. Of course, Crowley himself was the mystery, he was the legend, and the terrifying reality of this place. It's difficult to pull in air, the cave suddenly claustrophobic around him. He's feeling very overwhelmed. There's a possibility he's being very emotional right now. "I'm sorry."

"Hush, soft thing." Rocks crunch beneath him as Crowley draws closer, his spider legs moving slowly and carefully. "You don't have to be afraid. I only eat sharp, spiteful things." Three hands settle on Aziraphale's arms, the fingers chill through the thin material of his shirt. They rub gently in a way that feels almost surreal.

The other hand drifts downwards, brushing grit from a shelf of rock and gesturing towards it. 

"Here, sit, the little joint of your leg will thank you for it."

In truth it's more a collapse than anything. The burning throb of his knee is very grateful to no longer be supporting his weight. Crowley's four legs bend, lowering the bulk of him to something approaching the same height. He's close enough that Aziraphale could reach out and touch him. He can see how his thin waist darkens and spreads into the body of a spider, a smooth curve of shining black, held up by the thin branches of his legs. 

The reality of him is impossible, Aziraphale knows this, a spider could never support its own body weight at such a size. The different biological systems of arachnids and mammals can't possibly be compatible. Yet Crowley's hands are still on his arms, curious and oddly comforting. 

"It's a very long way to another entrance," he explains. "Lots of tight spaces and difficult climbs for someone with soft hands and only two legs." 

Aziraphale barely has one leg at the moment, and he's so very tired.

"Will your friends come back for you, do you think?" Crowley asks.

Aziraphale is certain they both know the answer to that. But he shakes his head miserably anyway. No, no one is coming back for him.

Crowley's third hand lifts from his arm to curl around his face and Aziraphale can't remember the last time he was touched so gently.

"You could stay here with me, Aziraphale. Be a soft thing in this cold, sharp place. I will keep you safe. I will bring you food from the pools and spin you the softest bed you've ever had -" Long fingers slide slowly down Aziraphale's face, cup the round of his cheek, the warmth of it sinking into them. "Perhaps one day you will even share it with me."

**Works inspired by this one:**

  * [[Fanart] Things Left Behind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29620215) by [SkyAsimaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyAsimaru/pseuds/SkyAsimaru)
  * [[Fanart] Things Left Behind (ruminations)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29656962) by [SkyAsimaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyAsimaru/pseuds/SkyAsimaru)
  * [[Fanart] Things Left Behind (more ruminations)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29797233) by [SkyAsimaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyAsimaru/pseuds/SkyAsimaru)
  * [[Fanart] Things Left Behind (even more ruminations)](https://archiveofourown.org/works/29979864) by [SkyAsimaru](https://archiveofourown.org/users/SkyAsimaru/pseuds/SkyAsimaru)
  * [[Podfic] Things Left Behind](https://archiveofourown.org/works/30079815) by [Djapchan](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Djapchan/pseuds/Djapchan)




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